


Flowers for Caesar

by tamlen



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Alternate Universe, ConDes, DesCon, Fluff, M/M, Modern Assassin AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-29
Updated: 2014-05-29
Packaged: 2018-01-27 01:04:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1709345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamlen/pseuds/tamlen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life felt like a weight for them both, but in each other's company, the pressure lightens just a tad. 4 keyword ficlets dedicated to an AU in which Connor is a modern Assassin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flowers for Caesar

**Author's Note:**

> This god damn AU ship has ruined my life, I'm way too invested in this, tell my mom I'm sorry.

**Blur**

He sees in colors that don’t exist, hears whispers from the dead; from the rooftops of Monteriggioni to the paved roads of Constantinople, it’s all a blur and caresses from the fallen have become oddly comforting.

Desmond hugs himself in an attempt to get a grasp, remind himself of what’s real (“Is something wrong, Desmond?” “I’m cold, that’s all.”), his nails dig into the white sleeves of his jacket as the world fades to red. Red. Everyone is red.

Except for Connor.

Strong and powerful, yet gentle hands grip him by the hips and suddenly lift him up (“Stop—stop, stop, stop, put me down!” “No.”) and Desmond flails and kicks as his complaints become incoherent and his vision becomes faint, dwindling into darkness.

He wakes up in a bed that isn’t his own, Connor sitting in a chair propped against the edge of the bed with his head cocked to the side as if he’d uncomfortably fallen asleep while watching over him—right, he’d most likely been here all night…simply watching over him.

"Are you alright?" are the first words to greet him.

"Could be better. Could be worse." Desmond says with an uneasy chuckle.

But maybe, just maybe, the shades of red are starting to become more translucent.

**Laughter**

"Anyways, that’s why ya’ don’t fish out of a sewage canal. Huh? What are you—…snrk."

His hand glides over Desmond’s abdomen, a smirk gradually appearing on Connor’s face and Desmond can only look at him with panic, fear and anticipation in his eyes as he attempts to mouth “CONNOR, NO.”

He braces himself. And Connor attacks.

Desmond erupts into a fit of boisterous giggling as Connor relentlessly tickles him, hastily poking and prodding at his sides and evading all of Desmond’s attempts at shoving him off. “M-mercy, please! C-c-c’mon guys, help me!” Desmond cries out with grin, arms huddled together over his stomach as he half heartedly defends himself.

Rebecca and Shaun simply look at one another before shaking their heads, Rebecca warmly smiling and Shaun cocking an eyebrow.

"No mercy today, Desmond—only justice."

Connor prods his armpit, only for Desmond to laugh so hard he keels over.

The sound of Desmond’s laughter, as foreign as it was, always brought a smile to Connor’s face—an even rarer sight to behold.

**Aid**

Blood stains the cuffs of Connor’s letterman jacket, and Desmond is sure that it isn’t his own.

However, the blood trailing down from the gash on his cheek and his nostrils undoubtedly is.

"Dude. Really? Sit down. Seriously. You’re injured, you can’t walk around like that. It’s okay to take a break for once, y’know."

Desmond pulls out a tiny and opaque first aid kit from his coat pocket (which he happened to steal from some drawer in Shaun’s lab because he’s damn tired of how little they supply him with) and shakes it a bit, beckoning Connor to come closer.

"That won’t be necessary. I am fine." He responds coldly, beginning to turn away before Desmond grasps his arm and stops him. "No, you’re not! You’re bleeding. Stop overexerting yourself so damn much for once!"

"It is a minor wound, Desmond, I am fine." Connor pulls him arm away with a certain harshness that both irritates and hurts Desmond and Desmond responds by forcefully tugging on the sleeve of his jacket.

"Like hell you are. Just sit down, okay? At least let me wipe the blood off."

Connor grunts and glares at him, and of course, Desmond glares back. They stand there glaring at one another for a minute or two before Desmond mutters “Please. For me.” and Connor huffs and forfeits with a pout. For a man capable of killing of breaking the necks of 6 Templars in 5 minutes, my god is he an absolute child, Desmond thinks.

Surprisingly enough, he stays silent (well, if you don’t count the grunting) as Desmond gently dabs away the blood and presses a Snoopy print bandaid onto his gash.

"See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?" He’s replied to with a grunt of course, but before Connor can stand up and leave in a huff, Desmond kisses the tip of his own index finger and presses it to the bandaid. Connor looks at him with wide eyes as a subtle blush creeps over his cheeks.

"There, all finished. You can go now. Try not to break any noses for at least an hour."

Sometimes, a little patience is all you need.

**Embrace**

Connor was akin to a defensive and vicious guard dog, and moments like these only seemed to exemplify that. After Will landed a blow to Desmond’s face, he was met with Connor’s fist to his cheek, abdomen, and well, his groin.

"What the hell, Connor?! That wasn’t necessary!"

"He hurt you, Desmond. He hurt you, yet you stay silent?" He says, his voice shaking with aggravation.

After a while of bickering between the two, Connor storms out of the Temple, purposefully knocking over equipment in the heat of the moment before leaving. Maybe it was for the best.

Desmond finds him, as he ventures about, hours later, in a secluded section of the Temple, fingers tracing over the cave wall’s indentations.

"Connor?"

He turns to look at Desmond, his face softening with regret.

"I…I am sorry."

The distance between the two gradually lessens the more they talk, and in a matter of an hour or two, Connor stands next to him, hand smoothing over the bruise beginning to form on Desmond’s cheek.

"Does…it still hurt?"

Desmond looks at him with a soft sort of solemnity in his eyes, and a small yet wry smile begins to spread across his lips.

"No, no….not anymore."

As Connor’s hand embraces his cheek, Desmond clasps his hand and slowly kisses him.


End file.
